


The Ritual

by drakhus67820



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aerys Is His Own Warning, Alternate Universe - Jon Snow didn't go to The Wall, Alternate Universe - Magic, Dark Ritual, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, I try, Jonerys Valentine's Week, Magical Realism, Mystery, Prince Jon Snow, Rhaegar Lives, aerys is alive, daenerys is a witch, his family too, mention of auto-mutilation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-26 13:01:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17746367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drakhus67820/pseuds/drakhus67820
Summary: In a rainy and dark night Princess Daenerys Targaryen, the first Fire Sorceress since a century, try to make a dangerous ritual. At his side his beloved Jaehaerys is his only help.





	The Ritual

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Oadara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oadara/gifts), [MeeMaw](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeeMaw/gifts).



> This little One shot is for Oadara and Meemaw, thank you for sending me this prompt!  
> The moodboard is the work of justwanderingneverlost, thanks you very much!  
> And the last but not least, Thescarletgarden who have translated this story in english! I will be lost without her, thank for translation and our friendship <3  
> I hope you will like, don't hesitate to give comment and kudos =D

 

The Ritual.

 

The waves shattered with furious rage on the jagged shores of the island of Dragonstone. It was usual on this island, although the most superstitious of the smallfolk had another explanation. In their eyes, it was the witch's fault, Princess Daenerys, the first Fire Sorceress since the disappearance of the dragons and the rapid decline of the Art that carried within the Targaryen family.

 

Tonight would mark a turning point in learning magic for the young woman. Two people were in the gardens, in the middle of the ancient ritual circle built while Valyria reigned supreme on Essos. The Princess had changed her luxurious dresses for a more adequate outfit, rugged black leather pants, a blouse with rolled up sleeves and boots. She stood in the middle of the stone circle, encircled by eight tall stone columns invaded by ivy. In the center was a crucible, a basin dug into the rock. The floor was strangely smooth and hot to the touch, no deformation or crack was visible on its surface. At present, the young Princess was on her knees, tracing several circles and lines in white chalk, cautiously inscribing Nordic runes and Valyrian glyphs.

 

A few steps away, leaning against one of the pillars surrounding the sacred place, stood a young man wearing leather and metal armour, who was watching the scene attentively. Sometimes his gaze left the Princess to check on a sheet of paper. Checking, in the glow of the countless candles, that the drawings would match. When the Princess finally got up she looked at her companion, Jaehaerys Targaryen. She tilted her head in an elegant gesture, a questioning glint shining in her amethyst eyes. The bastard Prince simply nodded in reply, a shy smile on his lips. A beam brighter than the midday sun answered him.

 

Daenerys left the ritual circle wiping her hands on her leather pants. Taking care not to inadvertently spoil her work, she stepped to an altar invaded by moss. When she took the first steps outside the protection of the pillars she was surprised by the fine drops of water falling from the sky. Fortunately, the altar was sheltered from the elements in a small natural cavity. There, placed on a large silver tray, were displayed the many ingredients that the ritual required. Daenerys leaned over the table, from her sleeves she took out an obsidian knife with which she cut the palm of her hand.

 

Clenching her fist over a wooden bowl engraved with runes, she poured the precious scarlet liquid. When she finally thought it was enough, she made several gestures with her good hand, intoning an old formula in a melodious voice. The air seemed to be disturbed, as gradually, to the rhythm of her voice, the runes engraved in the woods began to come alive, glowing with power as the blood began to smoke and boil in the bowl. Daenerys cast one last look at her lover before she began to mix the ingredients in the bowl of blood.

 

Jaehaerys sat beside the basin dug in the rock. With the same precaution as Daenerys, he filled it with logs and dried moss. Like the other male members of their family Jaehaerys - or Jon - had no gift, he did not have anything to allow him to perform magic. Yet that did not mean that he was not necessary, on the contrary. For two reasons, one of mystical origin and the other more practical, as his stay at the Wall had seen Jon get a Valyrian steel sword, one of the few materials that can fight magic. She just hoped Jon did not need to use it tonight.

 

After several minutes, a small pyre was created. As the Princess turned to him, her determined gaze softened as she watched her beloved reach out to receive the smoking bowl, now filled with blood and other ritual ingredients.

 

Jon deposited the bowl with reverence at the center of the wood. Then he too left the ritual circle. While the young woman was going to take place in one of the circles, her beloved stopped him.

 

“Dany, are you sure you want to do it? It's dangerous,” Jon asked, which made Daenerys smile. Her lover was still so worried about her and her well-being, since they knew each other after the monster that was her father had sent him here.

 

“Yes, Jon, I'm sure. If the ritual is successful, Aerys will give us more time, enough to allow us to set up the continuation of the plan.”

 

Jon placed his hand on her cheek, gently stroking it with his thumb. The Princess closed her eyes, enjoying the loving contact with her nephew.

 

“I know,” murmured Jon, hugging her.

 

Daenerys sighed contentedly, letting her head rest on the worn leather armour, enjoying the warmth that emanated from him. With regret, she put an end to the embrace, slightly moving away from him, as he watched her with pride glittering in his eyes.

 

“In addition, you will be there, all along the ritual with Longclaw,” she said, pointing to the sword that Lord Mormont had gifted him.

 

As always at the mention of the Valyrian steel sword, Jon swelled with pride, and rightly so. After all, he had deserved it for his heroism. The rogue Prince had received it as a gift after rescuing the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch from an attack during his sad stay in the lands of his mother, Lyanna Stark. One of the few memories untainted by the bitterness or sadness he had during his time with the Stark.

 

Always smiling, the Princess laid a kiss on Jon's lips.

 

“Come on, Jon, let's get to work.”

 

As she took her place in the inner circle, Jon moved into another one. He took out his sword from his scabbard, both hands on the wolf-shaped pommel as he waited, determined and vigilant, following her every movement.

 

His lover looked into the hourglass, seeing that there was still enough time, her mind wandered, as often, it went to her heart's chosen one. Tonight Jon had left his prince's clothes to wear his armour. It had been a gift from Rhaegar before his departure to the North. It was functional and forged by the best blacksmiths of the Seven Kingdoms, far removed from the decorative armour worn by Aegon or Viserys. Yet Daenerys could not help thinking that Jon looked even more royal than them.

 

Daenerys could not restrain her sneer as she thought that her hateful father had probably given her the best gift by sending him here. In her eyes, her meeting with Jon was the best thing that ever happened to her. Her father had never loved her, seeing her weak and pathetic, letting Viserys brutalize her – even encouraging the ignoble worm - until her gift awoke.

 

Oh, how the King had been delighted when, at eight years of age, her power revealed itself. And this even if the victim had been his favourite son, Prince Viserys. That day, the brute regretted having tried to raise his hand on her while Rhaegar had his back turned. As the scared little girl raised her hand to protect herself, the flames came out of her fingers, burning Viserys' hand.

 

Daenerys had been terrified when the brutes who served her father had dragged her to the insane King. She had been sure she would be beaten for hurting Aerys' favourite. But rather than punishing her, he was proud, happy even. For a short time, she was happy, too. Who would not want their father's love, after all?

 

In the company of her mother, she took her place on the island of Dragonstone, until then only used by the bastard son of Rhaegar. Daenerys had never met her nephew until that day. Aerys had taken great care to hurt his older son by separating the only child he could have had with the woman he loved. Even worse, Aerys forced the High Septon to dissolve Rhaegar's marriage with Lady Lyanna, leaving poor Jon a bastard and orphaned in all but name.

 

Her brother Rhaegar was later overwhelmed by the many duties Aerys appointed on him, leaving him little time to take care of Jon - or even his two other children. Aegon and Rhaenys, Jon's brother and sister, had very little contact with their little brother, although they would have liked to know each other. That left a bitterness in the siblings that only grew over time.

 

The nobles liked to ignore the existence of Rhaegar's second son, but when, very rarely, they talked about him it was to speak about him with contempt. If it were not for Queen Rhaella, Daenerys could very well have been part of it, having heard of Jon only by Viserys' vile comments or the contemptuous sermons that the Septa gave about his bastardy. It was Queen Rhaella who practically raised Jon. As a child, she had never understood why her mother left the court every three months to go to Dragonstone for three months, but now she knew. As much as to offer Jon some kind of maternal affection, it was also a way for her to take refuge from her marriage with the monster Aerys. The Queen spoke about the youngest of her grandchildren with affection and pride, telling with joy how Jaeherys was a good boy.

 

Jon was shy at first, suspicious even. But he warmed quickly to her when she finally managed to gain his trust. It did not take more for the two children to become inseparable. Until the cursed day in which Daenerys was summoned back to King's Landing, her father demanding that she show him her progress.

 

Her cruel and filthy father had used it as an instrument of terror. Forcing her to burn several supposed traitors thanks to her fire magic. The screams, the smell of the burning flesh, the entreaties and the insane laughter of her father still haunted her dreams years later.

 

The people's gazes and their whispering had changed too. Nobles and commoners alike all looked at her with suspicion and barely veiled contempt, she heard the same murmur that had described her father as far as she remembered, depicting her as another madwoman.

 

It was probably the worst month of her short life. Never had she been happier about leaving her family and returning to Jon. As always Jon, the light of her life, had held her in his arms. It was also on that day that she kissed him for the first time. Alas, six months after Jon was sent to Winterfell with his maternal family.

 

Daenerys shook her head. Poor Jon had hoped so much for this meeting, hoped too much for. The hope that at least his maternal relatives would make him feel the warmth of a family. Instead, he had to give way to the coldness of his uncle and the silent contempt of Catelyn Tully. Only his cousins, especially Arya, had spoiled him during his permanence in the North.

 

Finally, when he was ten-and-five, Jon had decided to explore further his mother's land. Unfortunately for him, he ran into the cold indifference of many Lords of the North. To her great displeasure, Jon fell silent for over a year, a year he spent at the Wall, fighting the wildlings and wandering north of the Wall. A long year at the end of which he returned to Dragonstone, changed, darker. Jon had only shown glimpses of his deepest thoughts, little by little telling his story to her.

 

It was time. The moon was finally at its firmament. Daenerys cleared her throat as Jon tightened his hold on his weapon, ready to fight if things went wrong. Eyes fixed on the hourglass, as soon as the last grain of sand fell she sang in a clear voice a sinister song charged with power.

 

As the song swelled, a supernatural haze began to take shape towards the center of the ritual circle. Little by little the mist darkened, shades of flame, red and orange appeared.

 

When she finished the first stanza, the mist finally touched the fuel that was in the stone basin. In a loud creak, the wood caught fire. When Daenerys looked more closely she was certain to see shapes, as if creatures from another world were fighting in the inferno.

 

A few seconds later the blood-filled bowl caught fire, while the flames became a frantic whirlwind of infernal fury. Daenerys's heart beat wildly as the whirlwind grew, barely contained by the protections offered by the runes. The Princess could feel it, the total power, untamed and destructive. It was the Fire that could destroy entire civilizations, the eternal Fire that burned in the depths of the world. The Primordial Flames, power in its purest state.

 

The sorceress intoned the second stanza, which was softer, like a lullaby. Inside the circle, the Primordial Flames seemed to have calmed down, its swirls becoming less frantic. The fire slowly ceased to force against the barrier, the pressure diminished slowly but steadily as Daenerys intoned a second time, then a third time the same refrain.

 

Daenerys was sweaty, gasping for air, and her throat was dry. She licked her cracked lips, her legs trembled, and it seemed to her that an enormous weight laid on her shoulders. Finally, the weight gradually decreased. In the center of the circle, the whirlwinds turned and turned on themselves. Calmer, certainly not tamed, but waiting. It was the eye of the Storm, the moment of lull, the pivot of the ritual she had initiated. The moment that, at the slightest error, could consume her and Jon... and maybe even the castle.

 

Daenerys took a deep breath, steadying her will, as she could feel Jon's presence with relief. She focused on her catalyst, the rock that would keep her alive, better still: that will make her succeed.

 

She couldn't see behind the flames, she could only guess. Eyes closed, plunged into a deep meditative trance, her mind all directed towards her to give her the strength she lacked now. Daenerys could feel that in the form of heat, a heat very different from that of the Primordial Flames. The Princess closed her eyes, basking in gentleness, touched by the strength of the love and trust Jon had for her. It was beautiful and sacred. Just as she felt that she knew that Jon felt the same from her.

 

Daenerys extricated herself from the warm cocoon to plunge her gaze back into the burning fires she had called from the darkest depths. Her gaze was more determined than ever. As much as her life was at stake, tonight she was going to play both of their destinies. She could not fail.

 

Daenerys intoned the penultimate stanza of his ritual song. The song was haunting, mixing order and supplication. While in the Circle, the Flames morphed. Suddenly, a shadow of a human form was formed in the flames, the fire was writhing in itself, it was trying, the tone of voice had to take dominating accents when the flame was reluctant, cajoling and encouraging when it showed good will. The minutes seemed to become hours, a phenomenal pressure was exerted on her, both physically and mentally, a headache of incredible strength threatened at every moment to break her concentration. She had the impression that her skull split in two.

 

At last the pressure ceased, Daenerys staggered, then dropped to her knees, panting. When she looked up, she was amazed by her work: she had done it!

 

Before her amazed eyes stood the result of almost two years of preparation. It was living proof - in a way - that she had the magical potential of being equal to Visenya Targaryen. Fluttering gracefully in the middle of the molten stone, transformed into magma by the flames, danced a creation not seen for almost three centuries. An Elemental Fire, the creature was beautiful. Very clearly feminine, her skin seemed to be made of liquid lava. She was completely naked, slender, she kept dancing, floating in the air with the grace of fire. On the extremities of her limbs, going up on her thighs and shoulders was a little black stone like reptilian scales. On her skull, dancing long flames that formed a fiery hair, from her temple departed two long twisted horns reminding her of the horns of the Dragon. On her forehead, her cheeks and her nose of the same rock formed the outline of a face, magnificent but inexpressive. Her eyes were bright black while her irises were a powerful, supernatural red. They were focused on her, waiting.

 

A groan came out of her contemplation. With difficulty, almost panicking when he saw the creature, Jon got up, Longclaw in his hand, ready to attack.

 

“Jon, stop!” Daenerys shouted hoarsely.

 

Hesitation danced in the eyes of her beloved, but finally, after a reassuring look, he lowered the blade to the ground, waiting.

 

With regret, her eyes left those of Jon to concentrate on the Being. She had not looked at Jon, who was carrying the weapon that could destroy her. Valyrian steel, dragonglass and some rare weapons were the only things capable of hurting and destroying this kind of creature. No other weapon could even hurt creatures like this. Only magic could destroy magic.

 

Daenerys again took a deep breath before singing the last song. This time the melody she sang was sweet and inviting. Without leaving the eyes of the creature, Daenerys sang. And she would sing until the being accepted her... or until she could not sing anymore. This last case would undoubtedly have dramatic consequences for her.

 

Daenerys continued to sing for a very long time, her song taking on desperate accents as time passed. She had lost count of the number of times she had started singing again, but eventually, it happened. The Elementary stopped and with supernatural grace, she made a reverence. At the same time, she felt in her mind a foreign presence. It was an indescribable feeling, both terrifying and euphoric.

 

With a movement of her hand, she broke the protections and then dropped to her knees. An overwhelming sense of relief came over her, and then a strong sense of pride at the accomplishment. She had managed not only to create but also to bond with a Fire Elemental!

 

Soon she was joined by Jon, who looked at the Being with suspicion.

 

“Jon,” Daenerys called in a weak voice,  mingled with pride and relief. Her head was spinning and her vision was starting to fuzz.

 

“Dany!”

 

Almost immediately, she felt Jon's strong arms around her. She surrendered herself to the embrace and her tired face lit up with a smile as she smelled the sweet smell of her lover.

 

"You've done it, my love," Jon's voice filled with wonderment that only swelled Dany's heart with pride.

 

“We did it, Jon, both of us.”

 

Jon shook his head, his cheeks slightly red and then replied gruffly “I did nothing more than help you... a little.”

 

Daenerys shook her head, but said nothing, she was too exhausted. She had trouble keeping her eyes open. She began to feel the counter-coup of the ritual. She knew she probably would not be able to wake up for a long time. The Queen, her mother, was going to be furious, she thought with a touch of regret.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this, I have more for this universe, but that depend how inspired I am. Of course feel free to leave comment, it's a really helpfull and motivating!


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